


call it what you want

by 70sBabe



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: AYITL doesn't exist, F/M, Literati, good old fashioned road trip, i'll try not to get too angsty, set in like 2013, travel fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-02-29 03:24:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18770209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/70sBabe/pseuds/70sBabe
Summary: “Jess,” she pauses. He waits. “Would you run away with me?”(or, Rory needs to get away from it all and Jess just so happens to be planning a road trip)





	1. Philly

It takes Jess a few seconds to figure out why he’s awake and where that god awful noise is coming from, but when he does, he lunges for the phone. The only people who would dare call him at 3:27 in the morning are people who would only call if it was an emergency. 

“Hello? Luke, is everything okay?”

He hears shallow breathing on the other end.  _ So, not Luke. Probably should’ve checked caller ID _ .

“Doula, is that you?” He tries again. “Come on, kiddo, what’s up?”

“You call Doula ‘kiddo?’”

Jess is surprised; no scratch that, he’s  _ shocked _ to hear this voice on the phone at 3:29 in the morning, but he tries to roll with it.

“Yeah, well, she stopped responding to Damien after TJ let her watch  _ The Omen _ .”

“Isn’t she six?”

“Turned seven last month.”

“And TJ thought this was a good idea because….?”

“Didn’t you tell me Lorelai rented  _ The Shining _ when you were eight?”

“In her defense, she was younger than we are now. Frontal lobe not properly developed and all that.”

“You know, that explains a lot about what you’ve told me about your childhood.”

She laughs, but doesn’t say anything else. She’s started doing this lately, going silent before Jess can, leaving him to force conversation because he can’t envision a scene with Rory Gilmore where they aren’t exchanging words at dizzying speeds. He thinks about asking her how Lorelai is doing or how work is going, but he catches a glimpse of his clock, red numbers indicating that it is now 3:32 in the morning, and decides to ask her the most obvious question.

“Rory, why did you call me?”

He hears a sharp intake of breath and knows that Rory is now steeling herself for this conversation, trying to figure out how to present her present situation in the most charming and winsome of lights.

“Rory-”

“Remember when you came to Yale?” she interrupts, her words tumbling out of her mouth.

“Yeah, I remember.”

How could he forget? It was one of the most dramatic things he’d ever done; even as he was pleading for her to run away with him, somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice was saying, “ _ Geez, what is this, a Nicholas Sparks novel? _ ”

“I was so mad at you,” she says quietly, a laugh embedded somewhere in those words. “God, I was so mad. And scared.”

“Why were you scared?”

“Because I knew if I let myself think about it for too long, I would say yes.”

She’s said things like this to him before (the first time: they were both drunk at a bar in Brooklyn and Rory threw her arms around his neck and slurred, “You know, I should’ve gone with you that summer.”) so it’s not as painful to hear this time around.

“And what a happy pair we would have been, until Lorelai and Luke tracked us down, dragged you home, and tossed me into the East River.”

She laughs but, again, lets the silence hang heavily over them. Jess wonders if this was all she wanted, a quick jaunt down memory lane, but there’s more to the story. With her, there always is.

“Jess?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.”

“Not funny, not even a little bit.”

“Alright, alright, ask away.”

“Well, I know this is gonna sound like a cry for help, or like I need you to save me, but I don’t, okay? I wanna make that very clear.”

“My armor never was all that shiny.”

He’s joking because he has no idea what she’s talking about and, when cornered by an incoherent Gilmore, humor is always your best bet.

“Jess,” she pauses. He waits. “Would you run away with me?”

He is shocked into silence. He figured she would ask him for his kidneys or $10,000 or maybe to help her move into a new apartment, but this? He can’t wrap his head around it and suddenly, he knows exactly how she felt that cool spring night, both their yelling voices echoing around an empty room.

“And before you say no,” she laughs, but it’s only to ease the tension. “Don’t.”

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, trying to think of the right thing to do. If Rory is asking him to run away, something is wrong with her. Should he call Lorelai? Should he try to talk it out with her, figure out the root of the problem?

But he doesn’t really want to do either of those things. He knows what he wants and that is to run away. He likes the sound of it and, funnily enough, he has a route all mapped out.

“And where exactly are we running to?” he finally says and he hears Rory gasp slightly. He guesses that she’s been on the verge of tears this entire conversation and now they’re finally sliding down her cheeks.

“Um,” she says, her voice a little thick. “You know, I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

“Rory Gilmore, queen of planning, wants to run away with no itinerary?” Jess clicks his tongue. “For shame.”

“Yeah, I’m putting on my hair shirt as we speak.”

“Luckily for you, I was already planning a trip.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I never kid about travel plans,” Jess is trying to keep the conversation light because he can tell Rory is one serious question away from a total mental breakdown and, if he’s gonna talk her off a ledge, he might as well do it in person. “You caught me at a stellar time. I’m starting a book tour on Monday.”

“Are you just saying that to make me feel better about asking you to run away from your responsibilities for the foreseeable future?”

“When have you ever known me to lie to make someone feel  _ better _ ?”

“True.”

“Where are you?”

“My apartment.”

“The same one I crashed in that weekend I was in the city and your roommate threw up on my shoes?”

“The very same.”

“Okay, so come to Philly when you can, and we’ll ship out at 0300 hours Monday morning.”

“I know you probably just said some ridiculously early time, but I’m too tired to figure out military time, so I’m just gonna say, yeah that sounds great.”

“Hey, Rory?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you talked to Lorelai about….whatever’s going on here?”

He wishes he could take it back as soon as he says it because if she was to burst into tears, here would be the place. He waits for the eruption, but it never comes.

“No,” she says briskly, followed by a sniff that sounds full of “I’m crying but not for long” snot. “I just - I can’t. Not right now.”

“Okay,” he smiles, even though he knows she can’t see it. “Just thought I’d ask.”

“I’ll call you when I’m on my way.”

“Preferably during daylight hours?”

“Oh, geez,” she says and she sounds painfully seventeen again. “Oh, God, I didn’t even look at the - I’m sorry, Jess.”

“No problem,” he chuckles. “Whenever I come into the office looking exhausted, Matt and Chris assume it’s because I’ve been up all night writing, so they don’t make me do any of the pencil-pusher stuff.”

“Glad I could help you shirk your responsibilities.”

“Hey, same here.”

She doesn’t say anything and he’s worried he went too far, but then she snorts and says, “Good night, Jess.”

“More like good morning, and a good morning it will  _ not _ be, considering it started way too early.”

“Go to sleep.”

“Bye, Rory.”

She hangs up first, leaving him with the phone still pressed against his cheek and wondering how, after all these years, she’s finally running away with him.


	2. Philly (still)

She calls on Friday, right about when Jess and the rest of the guys are closing up shop and heading off into the weekend. 

“Hello?”

“What would you say if I told you I forgot to call when I was on my way?”

“I would say,” Jess draws out the words, walking quickly towards the front door and throwing it open to reveal a grinning Rory. “You’re already in Philadelphia.”

They both hang up and Rory surprises him by launching herself into his arms. Sure, the easy friendship they’ve settled into allows for hugs, but not of this magnitude. Rory is clinging to him like he’s the last lifeboat off the Titanic.

“Okay,” he pats her back awkwardly. “It’s good to see you, too.”

“The more uncomfortable you are, the longer I will hold on,” she teases, her voice muffled by his shirt.

“Rory,” he sighs. She lets go, her face still lit up with a childish smile. He gets the feeling this is all performative; act manically happy and maybe he won’t feel the need to ask what she’s running from. Fat chance.

“Come on, let’s go find the perfect cheesesteak.”

So maybe he won’t ask her right away. What harm could a few hours of mindless fun do?

He takes her to Jim’s Steaks and laughs as she tries to figure out a way to get her mouth around the thing, but she is her mother’s daughter and where there’s a “will”-more, there’s a “way”-more (yeah, Rory doesn’t think it’s funny, either).

They walk around the city, not talking about anything important. Jess regales her with tales of Liz and TJ’s latest parenting fail (Doula showed up for the first day of school barefoot; Luke almost blew a gasket when he heard) and Rory gives him the rundown on what she’s been doing lately (things at the website she joined up with after Yale got a little stagnant, so she quit last year and is going the freelance thing). They talk like this whenever Jess finds himself in New York or Stars Hollow, or whenever Rory calls him up out of the blue, just to see how he’s doing, but every question feels loaded. Jess is afraid he’ll hit on the one thing Rory is trying to avoid and she’ll melt down in the middle of the street.

So he doesn’t ask the questions he’s dying to know the answers to: Are you fighting with Lorelai? Does anyone know you’re here? Are you happy?

Instead, they wander the streets and Jess points out favorite haunts, but they don’t go inside anywhere. Book and music stores would just make them lose two or three hours and neither of them wants to stop and sit down in a restaurant. So they continue walking until Jess finally steers her towards the train station.

“So I looked over that itinerary you emailed me,” Rory says as they make their way back towards Jess’ apartment building. “And I was thinking.”

“A dangerous sentence coming out of your mouth.”

“What if we left tomorrow?”

Jess stops to look at her. Rory’s face is a mask of innocence as she sips on the coffee they stopped for before getting on the SEPTA.

“Are you on the lam? Is there a wanted poster with your face on it hanging up at my local post office? I’m not gonna be mad if you’re an international crime boss; just disappointed that you didn’t invite me to join the gang.”

“No crime sprees,” she shrugs. “I’ve just been here a hundred times and you live here so I know you’ve done everything there is to do, so why don’t we go somewhere fresh?”

“Fresh,” he repeats, not really liking that word in this context.

“I’m just….” she’s not looking at him, focused on a horizon he can’t see. “I’m tired of people looking at me and knowing everything. I want to be….anonymous.”

He can understand that urge. When he first showed up in Stars Hollow, he hated the way everyone stared at him, like they knew his entire life story. Rory had been living under that microscope for as long as she could remember; no wonder she wanted out.

“So, what?” He unlocks the front door of the building. “You wanna head out tomorrow and mess around in DC for a day and a half?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Rory says happily, punching the elevator button. “God, I am so glad you moved out of the Truncheon building. Those stairs were a killer.”

“Every flight of stairs you take adds a couple more minutes to your life.”

“Yeah, okay, Luke.”

“If you ever see me in a baseball cap, put a bullet between my eyes.”  

Once they get inside his place, Rory makes a beeline for his bedroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m your packing supervisor.”

She flops down on his bed and flicks through the channels as he pulls clothes out of his dresser drawers, finally settling on  _ The DaVinci Code _ .

“Luke saw me reading that and thought I was gonna start wearing a tinfoil hat.”

“Yeah, he had good reason to; Mom read it and started seeing Mary Magdalene in her scrambled eggs which, as you can guess, drove Luke insane.”

“How are they doing?”

“Mom and Luke?” Rory rolls over to look at him. “They’re good. Solid. I mean, you were there Labor Day weekend, you saw them.”

“Yeah, but Lorelai always puts on a show for company.”

“You’re not company, you’re family.”

“Tell her that.”

“Hey, you guys get along a lot better than you used to.”

“I still feel like she’s not comfortable with me,” Jess shrugs, shoving a stack of t-shirts into his duffel.

“That’s probably because you’re not comfortable with her.”

“Ah, so I see TJ taught you a little popsicle psychology last time you were home.”

“Nah, it’s all the Oprah reruns I watch now that I’m not working a 9 to 5.”

Jess thinks maybe that’s where she’ll break down, at this admission of a lack of schedule, which would’ve sent a young Rory Gilmore screaming into the night. But she doesn’t break down; just turns back to the TV.

He finishes packing and flops down on the bed next to her. They finish  _ The DaVinci Code _ and when  _ Angels and Demons _ comes on after, Jess says, “I always liked this one better.”

“Me, too,” Rory agrees, and so they watch it until they both fall asleep, Rory under the covers and Jess laying on top of them.


	3. DC

“It’s weird to think about how many people have stood here.”

“I wonder if any of them were murderers.”

“Jess!”

“What? Statistically speaking, there had to have been _some_.”

“Okay, see, that’s not a statistic,” Rory turns to look at him, arms folded across her chest. “A statistic is something like ‘Guys who annoy their friends are 99% more likely to get pushed down the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.’”

That’s where they’re standing right now, a couple feet away from where Martin Luther King, Jr. told the world about his dream.

He and Rory rolled into town yesterday afternoon. Jess had thought maybe they’d have a chill day, walk around some of the DC neighborhoods and look at the brownstones, but nope: Rory dragged him off to the Smithsonian. Not that he was mad about it; he’d always wanted to go, ever since he was a kid. He liked the fact that they didn’t just have ancient pottery and arrowheads there; they also have Dorothy’s ruby slippers and a Kermit the Frog puppet.

After the Smithsonian, Jess took over the day’s plans and finally got that chill, wandering-around time he wanted. Rory took back the reins of control as soon as they woke up this morning, though, which meant sightseeing at all the monuments.

It wasn’t as bad as Jess had thought it would be, mainly because there aren’t that many tourists in September. Way more than he would like, but not as many as he was expecting; thank God for small miracles, and all that.

They had gone to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial first, then walked along the park path to the Lincoln Memorial (“Very handy that they shoved all these things into the same park,” Jess had mused. Rory just rolled her eyes).

“Oh, my God,” Jess’ eyes lit up as he scanned the map Rory had insisted they bring with them. “You’ll never guess what’s two streets over.”

“A Ray Kroc memorial?”

“Founding McDonald’s does not make him an American hero,” Jess scoffed. “And guess again.”

“Just tell me.”

“The DAR Constitution Hall,” he says slyly. “Wanna drop in and see some of your sisters-in-arms?”

“God, you’re never gonna let me live that one down, are you?”

“Hey, you still bring up California whenever I piss you off.”

“Point taken.”

The rest of the day is spent at the National Portrait Gallery (“You get one hour in here and then we’re going,” Jess grumbles as Rory leads him in, her hand loosely encircling his wrist), the Air and Space Museum, and (finally, blessedly) the Library of Congress.

“I think when I’m old and alone, I’m gonna work here,” he muses, feet propped up on the chair next to him as he leafs through a book of Norman Rockwell paintings.

“What makes you think you’ll be alone?” Rory looks up from her own book of Degas ballerinas (they’d decided on art books because if they’d started reading, they’d be there all night).

“What makes you think I won’t be?”

“You’ve got a family now.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What about Sarah? I thought that was going well.”

Jess looks up at her, one eyebrow raised. “You really think I’d be Thelma-and-Louise-ing it up with you if I had someone at home?”

“I - I guess I never thought about it.” She looks slightly troubled, but doesn’t press the subject.

It’s a typical response from Rory, especially as they’ve gotten older. She asks questions about his life, but only surface details. She prefers to think of him as a supporting character in her own life; something he realized she inherited from her mother. It’s not as bad as it was when she was younger, but she still slips from time to time. Like, for example, when she called him up in the middle of the night and asked him to leave with her, no thought to what he might be leaving behind.

He can’t blame her for being thoughtless sometimes, because he is, too. Has been since he was a kid. He says things without thinking, never remembers birthdays, and has a habit of making decisions based only on what he wants. In other words, he read some Kant and never looked back. Maybe that’s why he chose the solitary life of a writer; less people to hurt.

They leave as the sun begins to set and take a cab to a Chinese restaurant Rory remembers from her summer here, the summer Jess spent learning how hope can quickly shrivel into frustration.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly after a lull in their conversation about how smarmy and holier-than-thou all Mitch Albom’s books are.

“For what?”

“For not thinking about you,” she shrugs, playing with one of her chopsticks. “For being so wrapped up in my problems that I never thought you might have any of your own.”

“S’okay,” he mumbles around a mouthful of fried rice. “It’s not like I make it easy for you to mine the depths of my psyche.”

“Yeah, but I could’ve at least asked if you were still seeing Sarah! I mean, the last time you mentioned her was in-,” she stops, eyes narrowing in thought. “Oh, my God, it was June.”

“Rory-”

“I’m a terrible friend.”

“You’re not-”

“I mean, you break up with this girl four months ago and I don’t even know about it because I never thought to ask!” She sets her head down on the table, rattling the plates. “I’m a jerk.”

“You’re not a jerk.”

“The biggest jerk in the world.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Then why didn’t I know you and Sarah broke up?” she sighs, lifting her head up to meet his eyes.

“Because I didn’t tell you?” Jess rolls his eyes. “Because it’s no one’s business but mine and hers?”

“Not when you’re friends with a Gilmore.”

“Okay, so the next time I get dumped, you’ll be the first one I call.”

“Wait a minute, _she_ dumped _you_?”

“Not talking about this anymore.”

“But, Jess-”

“You want more eggrolls?”

“Jess-”

“I’m ordering more eggrolls.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Thank you.”

They get back to the hotel and Jess doesn’t even bother fighting Rory about who’s gonna sleep on the sofa bed; just flops down on the bed and lays there, trying to summon up the energy to take off his shoes.

“Nice to see chivalry is safely six feet under.”

He groans, then rolls over to face her. “Okay, one, I am the one who’s gonna have to give a public reading in front of people tomorrow. I’m gonna have to sign a bunch of books. I’m gonna have to be _pleasant_.” He wrinkles his nose. “And, two, you got the bed last night.”

“Only because you insisted!”

“Nice spin. You know, you’re what Bill O’Reilly has been warning us about all these years.”

She just sticks out her tongue before going to change in the bathroom. As soon as the door shuts, Jess kicks off his Converse, gets out of his jeans and into a pair of sweatpants. By the time Rory vacates the bathroom, he’s gotten so bored of channel-surfing, he has settled for _Forrest Gump_.

“This movie is so cheesy,” she scoffs, squeezing the last bits of water out of her hair with one of the hotel towels.

“Good soundtrack, though.”

Neither of them changes the channel and they fall asleep the same way they did that night in Philly: her under the covers, him on top.

* * *

 The reading is at Capitol Hill Books, a place Rory says she vaguely remembers stopping in, but Paris had hustled her out before she could really get a good impression of the place. A shame, really, because it is stupendous. Books crammed everywhere, even on a towering shelf shoehorned into the tiny bathroom, and that wonderful musty smell that only comes from used books, books that have been loved and cherished.

Jess had tried to downplay the whole touring concept to Rory, telling her that there’ll be just enough people to bug him, but not enough to recoup the tour expenses, but he feels strangely relieved when he sees that there are only a handful of empty chairs.

He reads a chapter from his latest book, _Through the Window_ , and signs copies of all his books; the crowd today seems well-versed on his catalog.

They finish up in time for him and Rory to grab a late lunch at a deli down the street and for Rory to show him all the books she picked up while she was waiting for him ( _The Crying of Lot 49_ , _Vulgar Favors_ , and a copy of _Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung_ for him).

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she says around a mouthful of chicken salad. “But it’s weird to me that you have fans.”

“None taken,” he laughs, stealing a chip from her bag. “It’s weird to me, too.”

“I just always think of your books as you, and you’re Jess, not ‘Jess Mariano, bestselling author!’”

“Bestselling is a bit of a stretch.”

“Didn’t you get a review in the New York Times?”

“Ah, yes, but I’ve never made it on their list.”

“Details, details,” she waves a hand dismissively through the air. “So, where are we headed to next?”

He chuckles, wiping his mouth with a crumpled napkin. “You’re gonna love this place.”

“Why?”

“You ever catch any _Andy Griffith_ reruns?”


	4. Mount Airy

“This is too weird.”

“Oh, come on, you love it.”

“I gotta bring Mom here.”

“Yeah, this seems like exactly her kind of freakshow,” Jess chuckles, surveying the street before them.

He had heard about Mount Airy, North Carolina a few years ago from a daytime TV special he watched when he was home sick. It stuck in his mind because, as a kid, he secretly loved  _ The Andy Griffith Show _ .

Mount Airy was where the real-life Andy Griffith was from and the place he had based Mayberry on. It had somehow avoided becoming a tourist trap, even with the Andy Griffith museum and the Mayberry police car that you could pay five bucks to ride in. It intrigued Jess, so when he heard there was a small bookstore on Main Street (yes, it was  _ just _ that cutesy), he convinced Matt and Chris to let him make a stop at Pages Books and Coffee.

“I didn’t even watch that many episodes,” Rory spins around, taking it all in. “But this is crazy. I had no idea there were so many superfans. I mean, that guy is wearing a Barney Fife t-shirt. I didn’t even know they made those!”

“If you think that’s crazy, wait’ll you see the Aunt Bea aprons.”

“I also can’t believe you, of all people, have a soft spot for one of the most heartwarming shows of the 60s.”

“Hey, there were a lot of good life lessons being imparted,” Jess knew his defense was weak, but he honestly didn’t have an explanation. “And it  _ was _ pretty funny.”

“I should’ve guessed,” Rory laughed, linking her arm through his as they continued down the street. “You were always watching reruns of, like,  _ I Dream of Jeannie _ and  _ Hogan’s Heroes _ .”

“There’s something comforting about old TV shows,” Jess shrugged. “Dinner is always on the table, Dad always comes home at 5:30, all problems are solved in thirty minutes.”

“Stability,” Rory nodded. “I get it. I was the same way. When you see your dad once or twice a year, it’s nice to watch Ward Cleaver show up every day.”

“Exactly.” Jess had never really thought about it that way before, but as soon as Rory put it into words, he knew it was true.

They wandered up one side of the street and down the other, stopping at the Mayberry Soda Fountain (Rory buys two pounds of old-fashioned candy, all mixed together in a huge plastic bag. Jess gets a piece of fudge) and Mayberry Market and Souvenirs (Rory laughs herself silly over a set of Andy Griffith shot glasses and buys two sets, one for her and one for Lorelai).

They eventually make their way to the Bluebird Diner and eat lunch while waiting for Jess’ reading to begin.

“Good burgers,” Rory nods to herself. “But nowhere near Luke’s.”

“I can’t tell if you  _ actually _ believe he makes the best food in the world or if you’re just experiencing intense Stockholm Syndrome due to the fact that he’s been your only source of nutrition for most of your early life.”

“Probably a combination of both.”

Jess watches her finish off the burger and start in on her onion rings, trying to figure out how to phrase his next thought. He had wanted to give her time to loosen up before he started giving her the third degree, and a couple days in DC and hours in the car together qualifies as “loosening up time” in his eyes.

“Lorelai’s gonna like the shot glasses,” he starts tentatively.

“Oh, yeah,” Rory laughs. “It’s the perfect blend of weird and kitschy.”

“What are you gonna say when she asks you where you got them?”

Rory looks at him quizzically, but in a split second, her expression snaps to realization.

“I - uh, I guess I’ll-”

“So she doesn’t know you’re with me,” Jess clarifies. He’d been wondering about it for the last few days.

“She knows I’m….” Rory searched for the right words. “Taking some time off. Wandering.”

“She just thinks you’re doing it alone.”

“I don’t know, we’ve never really talked about it.”

“You two, not talking about something? Did the Earth just start spinning in reverse?”

“We don’t talk about  _ everything _ .”

“So if Luke calls, I shouldn’t tell him you’re with me.”

“No - yes - I don’t know!” Rory snapped, her head sinking into her hands. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell-”

“I’d hardly call that yelling,” he grins.

“-but I just….I don’t know, Jess,” she takes her head out of her hands and looks up at him. “I don’t wanna have to answer a ton of questions about why I’m with you and where we’re going and why I won’t just come home to figure things out.”

“So I take it you and Lorelai have had some conversations about….whatever’s bothering you.”

“Yeah,” Rory sighed. “And she wanted to be the one to fix it, like always. She’s having trouble accepting that there are some things she can’t help me out with.”

“Do you want her to help you out?”

Rory looked down, playing with the straw wrapper on the table in front of her. “I don’t think so. Does that make me a bad daughter?”

“No,” Jess snorted. “It makes you normal. Hell, this is probably the first typical parent-child situation you and Lorelai have ever experienced.”

“Then I guess that’s why I feel so weird about this.” She looks back up at him and smiles grimly before changing the topic to his thoughts on  _ Days Are Gone _ . He takes the hint and doesn’t press the subject.

At least, not until later, on their walk up the street to Pages.

“You should call her.”

“And say what?”

“Start with ‘I’m in North Carolina,’ and see where that takes you.”

“And how do you figure into all this?”

Jess shrugs. “Tell her if it’ll make you feel better about stuff, but it’s really up to you.”

Rory is quiet and he can tell she’s chewing on it, the concept of telling her mom that she’s On-the-Road-ing it with everyone’s favorite delinquent. It wouldn’t be an easy conversation, that’s for sure.

It’s not until after the reading, a night spent in a bed and breakfast with nauseatingly cheery wallpaper, and a couple hours on the road that Jess finds out she decided to take his advice.

“Mom says we should stop at Carowinds before we get to Charleston.”

“What’s that?” He plays it cool, trying not to make a big deal about the fact that she actually took his advice.

“A theme park. Lots of rollercoasters.”

“We’re both thirty years old.”

“Twenty nine!”

“Same difference.”

“You’re scared of rollercoasters, aren’t you?”

“I am not.”

“You totally are!”

“Not listening to you.”

“You can turn up the radio all you want, I’m still talking about this.”

“You know, allowing you to tag along was a favor, I can kick you to the curb any time.”

“Wait ‘til Mom hears Jess Mariano, the Terror of Stars Hollow, is afraid of rollercoasters.”

“I’m sure she’ll cackle with glee.”

“She says hi, by the way.”

Jess smiles. “Tell her I say hi, too.”


	5. Charleston

“If you squint, you can see Fort Sumter.”

“And why would I want to see Fort Sumter?”

Rory looks up at him, brow furrowed. “The first shots of the Civil War. Fired from the fort. Or was it  _ at _ the fort?” She looks back at the blurry thing she’s calling Fort Sumter. “I don’t remember.”

“Ah, you mean the War of Northern Aggression? States’ rights and all that?” Jess affects a Southern drawl, trying to get a rise out of her.

“That’s not what the Civil War was about and you know it,” she responds, turning around and scanning the line of candy-colored houses that faced the ocean. Jess remembered something about it being called Rainbow Row.  _ Appropriate _ .

“So remind me again why you scheduled two days here?” They start walking slowly down the sidewalk.

“There’s a lot of history in Charleston,” Jess shrugs. “And cool architecture. Plus, we can go to the beach.”

Rory stares blankly at him. “It’s October.”

“Is it?” Jess hides a smile. “Huh. Guess I forgot about that.”

“What are we gonna do until your reading tomorrow?” Rory seems oddly impatient; Jess has a feeling she is slightly uncomfortable here in the South, where the accents are thick and the tea is teeth-rotting-ly sweet.

“Well, there’s about a million historic sights. It’s like New England that way; every building had a president or a secretary of state, et cetera, et cetera, stay there at some point. And, of course, there’s all that super uplifting Civil War and slavery history,” Jess says, sarcasm dripping off those last few words.

“Anything fun?”

“When has Rory Gilmore ever turned up her nose at history?”

“Ever since I stopped seeing every life experience as an opportunity for extra credit or another line on the resume.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“So, fun?”

“We could just walk around and look at all the old houses.”

“You’re really into that, aren’t you?”

“I think it’s my preoccupation with stability.”

“Enough said.”

They cross the street and double back to White Point Garden, then make the trek up King Street. It’s strange to see chain stores like Forever 21 and J. Crew operating out of storefronts that have been standing since the Reconstruction Era.

Rory drags him towards a restaurant called Jim ‘N Nicks Bar-B-Q, which is so painful for Jess to read that he actually groans.

“Would it kill them to use full words? Were they being charged by the letter?”

“Hush,” Rory scolds. “You just don’t understand Southern culture.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot you’re Scarlett O’Hara incarnate.”

“I’ve read enough Flannery O’Connor to know what I’m talking about.”

“Yeah, and I’ve read enough Faulkner to know that you really don’t.”

They bicker good-naturedly until the food arrives and Jess has to admit, it’s some of the best damn food he’s ever had. He plans on composing a sonnet to the burgers as soon as he gets pen and paper in front of him. And the cheesy biscuits, oh my  _ God _ , he and Rory are practically moaning as they wolf them down.

“I take back every bad thing I said about this place,” he mumbles through a mouthful of macaroni and cheese.

“Do you think we can convince Luke to make these cheesy biscuits?”

“Not a chance.”

“Who knew they ate like this in South Carolina?”

“Why do you think I wanted two days here?”

“Jess Mariano, you’re a genius.”

They leave after buying six bags of cheesy biscuit mix (“I’ll get Mom to convince Luke to start making these for the diner,” Rory promises and Jess believes her, because if anyone can get Luke Danes to do something he doesn’t want to do, it’s Lorelai Gilmore) and continue walking up King Street.

“There’s where I’m doing the reading tomorrow,” Jess points to a small building across the street.

“Blue Bicycle Books,” Rory reads the sign. “I like that. Alliterative.”

They keep walking until they hit Jeni’s Ice Cream and, of course, they have to stop (Rory gets Cold Brew with Coconut Cream; Jess sticks with a basic chocolate). They double back, licking their ice cream cones as they head to Marion Square.

“How would you be spending your time if I wasn’t here?” Rory’s voice punctures the silence that had enveloped them ever since they sat down on the grass, backs to a tree trunk and books in hand (Rory’s rereading  _ Letters To A Young Poet _ and Jess is devouring  _ The Alienist _ ).

Jess takes a few seconds to consider her question. What  _ would _ he be doing if he was all by his lonesome on this circuitous journey of the Eastern seaboard?

“I’d probably still end up here,” he smiles. “I’ve always had a thing for reading outside. But, uh, I probably wouldn’t be going in as many places. Eating room service and vending machine shit. Definitely no touristy stuff,” he rolls his eyes.

“Well, thank God I’m here then,” Rory nudges him lightly with her shoulder. “We’ve got to get some culture into you, do a  _ Pretty Woman _ , ‘you’ve made a big mistake, huge’ with the people running the  _ New York Times _ bestseller list.”

“I think that’s your personal vendetta against the  _ Times _ talking.”

“I do not have a ‘personal vendetta’ against the  _ New York Times _ .”

“You’ve never forgiven them for not giving you that dumb fellowship.”

“It wasn’t dumb! And there’s nothing to forgive! I’m over it!”

“Yeah, right,” Jess snorts, enjoying the view of Rory getting all fired up. This had been his favorite pastime when they were kids, especially when she was still with Dean. God, he hadn’t thought about Dean in years.

“It’s funny,” Rory shakes her head slightly. “At the time, that fellowship seemed like the most important thing in the world to me. When I didn’t get it, it felt like the world was crumbling around me, you know? Like it was all falling apart.”

“Yeah, but then you got the gig on the campaign trail, like, a week later.”

“Not the point,” she sighs. “At the time, I really thought everything was over. I was twenty one! My life had barely even started and I was already convinced I had peaked.” She’s laughing a little bit, but Jess hears something buried in those words, a fresher wound than the one they’re discussing.

“Everyone feels like that from time to time, especially when they’re young.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah,” Jess laughs humorlessly. “Nothing screams ‘my life is over’ like dropping out of high school, getting kicked out of your home, traveling cross country to see your dad, and then hearing him say he doesn’t want you to stick around.”

“You didn’t stay in California that summer?”

“No, I did,” he says quickly. “But Jimmy was none too happy about it.”

Rory is quiet for a minute and Jess thinks maybe they’ve closed this chapter of conversation, but she speaks up.  _ Of course she speaks up _ .

“He should have wanted you,” she says quietly, staring out at the grass in front of them, a stormy expression on her face. “He should have wanted you when you were a baby, and he should have wanted you that summer. He should have been  _ begging _ you to stay so that he could make up for all the shit he-”

“Hey,” Jess says softly, instinctively placing his hand on top of hers. “Hey. It’s over, okay? It happened, it’s done, and life goes on.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” her voice trembles on that last word and Jess suspects that, for his sake, she is holding back tears. “And I know what you’re gonna say, that life isn’t fair and blah blah blah, but just - just don’t, okay?”

“Okay,” he says simply and, before he can register what he’s doing, he slides his hand into hers and squeezes it three times before letting go. 

Neither of them bring it up again until hours later, after dinner at a seafood restaurant right on the ocean, a long, slightly tipsy walk back to the hotel, and both of them going through the getting-ready-for-bed motions.

Jess had had the foresight to upgrade his room to one with two beds, so as to avoid yet another sofa bed argument. Both of them laying in separate beds, two feet apart, feels weird, but not the uncomfortable kind of weird, the weird that he and Rory fight so hard to avoid because they’re exes who are friends, who have genuine affection for each other, who are traveling together for the next few weeks for no reason besides wanting to go somewhere.

He shifts around, trying to get comfortable. He wonders if Rory is still awake. He’s still thinking about what she said in the park, how upset and hurt she seemed by just a few words from him about Jimmy. She’d always known his dad was a deadbeat, but maybe she never knew the extent. Maybe she hadn’t ever wanted to think about it. Jess couldn’t blame her. Rory and her mom both thought every situation could be improved with a plucky spirit and a can-do attitude; two things that Jess never had and never would. He wonders again if she’s still awake, but somehow he knows she is. He can just feel it.

“Rory?”

“Yeah?”

“I always knew Jimmy never wanted me, never wanted a family. It doesn’t hurt me, so don’t let it hurt you.”

“I can’t help it,” she says quietly. “I think about my life and how I always thought it was so hard, my dad not being around and being a flake. I knew you had a sad story, too, but you were always so - so tough, you know?”

“I’ve been told I do a pretty convincing ‘Adrian!’”

“And now we’re adults and you say stuff like that and I realize….none of us knew anything about what you had to go through. We all just thought you were a bad kid and never stopped to wonder why.”

“I was too busy fighting anyone who tried.”

“I wish I’d tried to understand you back then. I always thought I was meeting you halfway, but-”

“Rory, don’t apologize because you couldn’t fix me when we were seventeen,” Jess sits up quickly, trying to make out her face in the dark. “Nothing could have fixed me back then.”

She sits up, too, bringing her knees close to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. If the conversation wasn’t so serious, Jess would consider cracking some joke about this being too much like a slumber party because the situation is veering towards that weirdness he was contemplating earlier.

“I know,” Rory shrugs. “But I should have tried.”

“Yeah, well,” Jess sighs heavily, laying back down. “I should have tried, too.”

She doesn’t say anything, but Jess can feel her staring at him, studying him with those giant blue eyes that always make him a little weak in the knees. He prays that she doesn’t say anything because he can’t do this, not right now, not when this whole trip is supposed to be about her damage, not his.

Finally, _ finally _ , she lays down and Jess squeezes his eyes shut, hoping that he’ll fall asleep before he has a chance to think about all their freaking baggage.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really happy you let me come with you.”

Jess smiles. “Who else was gonna get me all cultured for the  _ New York Times _ ?”

“You’re right,” Rory giggles. “ _ I’m _ the one doing  _ you _ a favor.”

“Go to sleep.”

“Geez, you sound just like Luke when you do that.”

“It’s not too late for me to leave you here, you know that, right?”

“‘Night, Jess.”

“Goodnight, Rory.”


	6. Savannah

Savannah and Charleston are very similar in that everything has been preserved. Jess had always scoffed at Connecticut’s compulsive need to save scraps of history, but these Southern cities were taking it to a whole new level.

“I bet this place is full of guys like Taylor,” Jess says, squinting up at a crumbling house, ivy covering the pink stucco walls. “Obsessed with historical preservation, even when the history isn’t important enough to save.”

“History’s importance is subjective,” Rory shrugs, sipping from her coffee cup. “Now come on, you’re gonna be late.”

He allowed Rory to drag him up Bull Street and through one of the tiny, weirdly divided town squares that this place was full of until they found themselves on the front stoop of E. Shaver Booksellers.

“Okay, I’ll meet you here in two hours?”

“I still can’t believe you’re ditching me to go see the Girl Scout lady’s house.”

“Juliette Gordon Low founded the Girl Scouts! I was a Brownie; I have to make a pilgrimage in her honor,” Rory insists. “And, on the off chance they happen to sell those cookies in the gift shop -”

“Aha!” Jess exclaims. “So, _that’s_ why you’re skipping out on seeing Flannery O’Connor’s childhood home, admit it!”

“I’ll have time to do both,” she sticks her tongue out at him. “Now stop stalling and go in there.”

“Do I have to?”

“Knock ‘em dead, Mariano.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

* * *

Jess can feel his eyes about to glaze over. He’s surprised Kenny, this overly enthusiastic fan of his, can’t see it.

“I really think my book could fill a hole in the market,” Kenny smiles too widely and leans in, making Jess instinctively take a step back. “I mean, how many books about robot dogs are there?”

“Not a lot,” Jess gives him a thin-lipped smile. Normally, he would just shove past this clown while maybe even _calling_ him a clown, but not now. Now, he’s Jess Mariano, respected author and indie publishing hero. Matt and Chris actually threatened to send him to charm school if he didn’t start being more civil to people, so he tries his best.

“So, should I send the manuscript to Truncheon, or do you just want me to give you a copy now?”

“Um, just send it,” Jess is slowly moving away from him, but Kenny is following. “I really have to go, I’m meeting someone -”

“Another author? Gosh, your job is so cool.”

“No, just a friend.” Jess is starting to get a little frantic. He scans the store for Rory (if anyone could delicately remove him from this situation, it’s her), but she’s nowhere in sight.

“That’s cool, too. Maybe we could all hang out together, maybe get a drink or something, I know a great place on -”

“Hey,” came a familiar voice, and Jess was tempted to get on his knees and thank God at the sight of one Rory Gilmore. “Sorry, I got a little distracted in the Biography section and - oh, you’ve got a friend.”

Jess, standing behind Kenny, widens his eyes theatrically and starts waving his hands in emphatic “no!” signals. He also throws in a few knife-slitting-the-throat gestures.

“I’m Kenny,” Kenny sticks out a hand that, Jess knows from experience, is clammy. “Mr. Mariano was just talking with me about my book and how he’d love to publish it or ma-”

“I didn’t say that,” Jess says sharply. “I just….I need to talk it over with my colleagues. Can’t just be making decisions willy nilly, right?”

“Oh, I totally get it!” Kenny is gearing up for another star-fucker drool fest and Jess’ already thin patience is reaching the consistency of a crepe. “I would never wa-”

“Uh, Kenny, was it?” _Rory to the rescue_ . She puts a hand on his arm, trying to drag him a few feet away from Jess. “I’m sure you’ve written an amazing book and Mr. Mariano would _love_ to read it -”

Jess snorts at that and Rory shoots him a warning glance.

“- but he’s on a very tight schedule and we need to go back to the hotel and get ready to head out to our next stop on the tour.”

“I completely understand,” Kenny nods solemnly. “The life of a great American author must be so busy and full of commitments.”

“Oh,” Jess chokes back laughter. Rory has a hand over her mouth to hide the wide grin he knows is on her face. “Oh, it absolutely is.”

Once they rid themselves of Kenny and leave the bookstore, they burst into laughter.

“A great American author -”

“His book is about a _robot dog_ -”

“God, I thought you were gonna strangle him -”

“I was close.”

“Never have I felt more like my mother,” Rory sighs happily, linking her arm through Jess’ as they strolled down the shady street. “I’ve seen her do that routine a million times with people who were about to make Luke have a stroke.”

“You’ve gotta stop comparing me to Luke, it’s hell on my self-esteem.”

* * *

“Really? There were no Girl Scout cookies anywhere on the premises?”

“Well, I didn’t go through the place with a fine-tooth comb, but there were none available for purchase.”

“Was the Flannery O’Connor house more satisfying?”

“Yeah,” Rory shrugged. “I don’t know, I’ve never really loved the whole, ‘this is where this significant person ate breakfast and hung out with their family and slept at night’ thing.”

“Really?” Jess raises his eyebrows. “That kind of stuff sounds right up your alley.”

“Without the people in it, it’s just a house.”

“So why’d you go?”

“I needed something to do! I’ve already heard you read that chapter three times and it takes you forever to do the Q&A and sign everyone’s books.”

“Sorry I’m successful,” he feigns offense, but follows it up with a smirk.

“Yeah, well,” Rory sighs. “Don’t apologize. You’re the only one here who is.”

Jess looks up from his plate of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans (they had stopped at Mrs. Wilkes Dining Room, a Savannah culinary staple, and were currently eating their weight in Southern comfort food). They had been joking around, but Rory’s tone was suddenly serious. He sensed a storm coming on.

“What makes you say that?”

“It’s just….” she trails off, dragging her fork through the food on her plate. “It’s nothing, I’m just being a brat.”

“It’s not nothing, and you’re not being a brat. Not right now, at least.”

“I would say I resent that, but I’m fully aware of my brattiness.”

“Spill it, Gilmore.”

“You sound like a thirteen year old girl asking for the hot gossip.”

“Stop evading.”

“Seeing you with Kenny - I mean, yeah he was a weirdo, but you have fans. You have people wanting to read your books, hanging off your every word, and it’s incredible. What you’ve done is incredible.”

“Much as I love hearing you compliment me, can we get to whatever’s bothering you?”

“I just feel like nothing’s the way I planned,” she shakes her head slightly. “I’m not an overseas correspondent, and I’m not writing for a major newspaper, and I’m not -” her breath hitches, like she wants to stop herself from letting the words out.

“You’re not….?” Jess prompts.

“It’s stupid,” Rory shakes her head. “But I just always sort of thought that….that I’d be married by now. Or at least engaged. It’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s not stupid,” Jess rolls his eyes. “A little generic, sure, but not stupid.”

“I’m just….drifting, you know? I just started the freelancing thing, so I don’t have a real job, just the scraps of one. When I do write stuff, it’s all puff pieces, like the ten best places in Brooklyn to get tacos, or a guy who drives around in a replica of the Mystery Machine.”

“That actually sounds kinda cool. The Mystery Machine, not the tacos.”

“ _So_ not the point,” she rolls her eyes. “I don’t have anything keeping me in one place, and yeah that’s fun and cool, but….” she looks away, then back at him. “It’s also sort of lonely. It makes me feel like there’s nothing stopping me from completely disappearing.”

“If you think Lorelai or Emily would let you drop off the face of the Earth, you’re delusional.”

“They’re different,” she almost laughs. “Family is different.”

Jess takes a second to gather his thoughts and really think about what he could say here that would make her feel better. He doesn’t come up with much, so he decides to wing it.

“I can’t fully relate to what you’re saying here because I’ve always liked the whole rootless thing. Even with Truncheon, I can still get in my car, drive to a new city, and disappear for a few weeks. I like doing that, always have.”

“Such a Kerouac wannabe.”

“But I know what it feels like to - to want something, someone, keeping you tied to the ground.”

“Oh my God, are we finally gonna talk about Sarah?”

“If it’ll stop you from doing this Eeyore impression, then sure, I’ll talk about Sarah,” Jess sighs, leaning back in his chair. He had never really intended on telling Rory about their breakup because, as he said before, it was no one’s business but his and Sarah’s, but Rory needed a bone right now. Might as well throw her a big one.

“Did she really dump you?”

“Yeah, but if she hadn’t done it first, I would’ve dumped her.”

“Yeah, right.”

“We liked each other a lot, but we wanted different things.”

“Okay, Oprah, tell me the real reason.”

Jess sighed. How could he begin to explain the series of decisions and discussion that led to Sarah saying quietly, “I think I should go,” and him just nodding, a numb feeling spreading through his body.

“She wanted me to be more open,” he starts carefully. “And I wanted to try, for her, because I cared about her and - well, I thought it was time I lost the whole “sullen, brooding teen” act.”

“It _was_ getting a little stale,” Rory smiles softly. She’s joking because she knows how much this takes out of him, how hard sharing the pieces of his life is for him. In that moment, Jess adores her for that smile.

“The only problem with being open,” he continues. “Is that everything eventually comes out.”

“Stop being cryptic.”

“I told her about my life with Liz, about some of the stuff that used to go down and,” Jess stops, biting his lip and shaking his head, still stunned by what Sarah had said. “She wanted me to confront Liz. Tell her she was a terrible mother to me, that I should have been enough for her to get clean, that she screwed me up beyond repair -”

“Are those your words or Sarah’s?” Rory’s voice is quiet, but her eyes are blazing with anger.

Jess smiled bitterly. “Oh, those are all Sarah’s.”

“You are not screwed up beyond repair! You _are_ repaired, you’re fine, better than you should be, considering your circumstances and she -”

“Yeah, I tried that argument with her, too. I didn’t like that she wanted me to go to Liz’s house and just start in on her. These things are long over, so why should I try to dig up old wounds? I mean, yeah, I’m never gonna have a great relationship with Liz, but there’s no reason to burn the bridge.”

“You’ve matured so much, it’s almost scary.”

“But I really didn’t like that she saw me as damaged goods,” Jess shrugged. “I was a fixer-upper for her and, when I told her I didn’t think I needed all that much fixing, she was just….I mean, the appeal was gone. She wanted to _save_ me,” he shuddered. “How corny is that?”

“Painfully corny,” Rory agreed.

“I thought….” he stops, not knowing why he felt the sudden urge to disgorge all his deepest, darkest feelings on the situation right now, in the middle of a restaurant in Savannah, Georgia, of all places. To Rory Gilmore, of all people.

“Yeah?” Rory prompts him.

“I thought that maybe she - that maybe I -” The words are sticking in his throat, the way they used to when he was younger and slowly realizing that words can mean so little if they’re not exactly right.

“You thought she could be the thing that kept you tied to the ground,” Rory finishes, reaching across the table to put a hand on top of his.

“Yeah,” he lets out a breath, trying to summon up a laugh, a chuckle, _something_ that would lighten the gravitas of this conversation. Rory’s hand is warm on top of his and he wonders why his heart is beating faster.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly. “Not that it didn’t work out with her, because she sounds like she has some issues of her own. But I’m sorry you haven’t found that thing yet.”

“I’m sorry you haven’t found it, either.”

“Well, you know what they say,” she smiles mischievously before affecting a fluttery, Southern belle accent. “Tomorrow is another day.”

“Okay, Scarlett,” he rolls his eyes. “Do you wanna get out of here, or is there a dessert menu you’re dying to lay waste to?”

“Ooh, I bet they have great pecan pie here!” Her eyes light up and she pulls her hand away from Jess’ to flag down a waitress. He feels strangely disappointed at the sudden loss of contact.

It’s not until later, after they walked back to the hotel, showered, packed, and collapsed into their respective beds, that Jess allows himself to think about the question that has been floating around the periphery of his brain since dinner.

_What if Rory’s not the only one running?_


	7. Nashville

“I still cannot believe you willingly planned a stop here.”

“It’s a cool city.”

“Land of cowboy boots, bedazzled suits, and songs about beer, boobs, and a pick-up truck.”

“Hey, that’s the new stuff, I don’t mess with the new stuff!”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Rory says thoughtfully. “You’ve got a real “Man in Black” vibe about you.”

“I was always more of a Kristofferson fan.”

“Understandable,” she nods. “He was so hot in the ‘76 _A Star is Born_.”

Jess snorted. “Yeah, he’s just dreamy.”

They were in the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum, which was a lot cooler than Jess had thought it would be. Sure, there was too much bro-country representation (Florida Georgia Line is a scourge upon humanity), but it was fun to have stuff to make fun of. Rory made him take a picture of her in front of Elvis’ gold Cadillac to send to Lorelai. She also managed to snap a picture of him in the Hall of Fame Rotunda, his back to the camera as he studied the hundreds of bronze plaques (“Post it on your instagram, your fans will love it.” “I don’t have one.” “You’re ridiculous.”).

Nashville was one of those places that Jess had a soft spot for, even though it was tourist central and full of cheesy restaurants and bars that played up the “Capital of Country Music” thing. He had first visited the city on one of his many road trips, taken before he settled in Philadelphia for good.

He had already done his reading. Rhino Booksellers was a little place on the outskirts of the city that looked like nothing special from the outside. Once you made it through the door, though, you were surrounded by books as far as the eye could see, shelves stretching to the ceilings and creating narrow aisles that covered every inch of the 5,000-square feet of the store. Rory had picked up a vintage copy of _Lady Chatterley's Lover_ and, following the theme of their location, _Woman Walk the Line: How the Women in Country Music Changed Our Lives_ . Jess had grabbed _The Viking Portable Library Beat Reader_ and, following Rory’s example, _Outlaw: Waylon, Willie, Kris, and the Renegades of Nashville_.

They were now doing all the touristy things that Jess would never normally do, but was glad that Rory was around to force him to.

“So, that’s Taylor Swift’s computer?” Jess squints at the placard next to a glass case with a first-generation MacBook inside. “That’s a weird thing to donate.”

“She also gave them handwritten lyric sheets, remember?” Rory scans the brochure she had picked up in the lobby. “We saw them downstairs. And in the Taylor Swift Education Center.”

“Still weird that she gave them her old computer. I think she was just cleaning out her closet and thought ‘Hmm, who would want this hunk of junk? Oh, I know: the Country Music Hall of Fame!’”

“Let’s move on before you share that thought with the docents.”

* * *

“I can’t believe they wouldn’t let us into Jason Aldean’s bar!”

“Am I supposed to know who that is?”

“Oh, he’s just another country guy in a baseball cap.”

“So why’d you want to get in?”

“The prestige,” Rory waves a hand through the air, then giggles. She’s tipsy and on the way to drunk, and Jess is feeling a little goofy, too. They had been granted access to the Wildhorse Saloon, a three-story bar with a huge dancefloor where people were line-dancing in brand new boots they had just bought in one of the many stores on Broadway.

“How close are we to you getting out there and line-dancing?” Jess grins, sipping his beer. _Maybe I should take it a little slower. One of us needs to be slightly sober_.

“I need….” she starts exaggeratedly counting on her fingers. “Two more drinks.”

“Okay, so I’m cutting you off after your next drink.”

“You’re no fun!”

“You’ll thank me tomorrow morning.”

“When did _you_ become the voice of reason in this relationship?” she slurs happily and Jess knew if they were sober, she would’ve gone pale at her use of the word “relationship” and quickly changed the subject.

“I’ve always been calm, cool, and collected.”

“Nu uh!”

“Real mature.”

“Remember when you stole all the baseballs from Stars Hollow High? Or when you superglued Chuck Presby’s locker shut? Or how about when you gave my mom decaf coffee but put so much cinnamon in it, she couldn’t taste the difference?”

“Why are we going through a list of my not-so-greatest hits?”

“Because _I_ used to be the one who had to stop _you_ from doing the crazy stuff!” Her eyes widen theatrically. “And now I wanna do the crazy stuff! Oh, God, is this my midlife crisis?”

“Not unless you plan on dying as soon as you hit retirement,” Jess snorts.

“I mean, I did one crazy thing,” Rory hiccups. “But then I hit the road with you so I wouldn’t do it again.”

“What did you do?” Jess’ curiosity was piqued, even with half a pitcher of beer in him.

“I’m not telling!” She sing-songs, swiveling her stool back to watch the dancefloor. “‘Cause it’s a _seeeeccreeeettt_.”

“Does Lorelai know?” Jess was game for a little 20 Questions.

“Nooooo.”

“Is it something to do with your job?”

“Nooooo”

“Is it something to do wi -”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Rory turns to look at him, the playful tone gone from her voice. “Stop pushing it, please.”

“Rory -”

“I’m gonna dance!” she proclaims, all seriousness gone and the silliness back to play. “Come on , Jess, dance with me!”

“I’ll watch from here,” he shakes his head, trying to get used to the whiplash of her emotions. “Guard your purse from any sticky-fingered cowboys.”

She just sticks her tongue out, laughs, and then practically skips into the crowd of people doing their best to dance in unison. Jess watches her get a quick tutorial from an older man in a faded plaid shirt before tentatively joining in. He can’t help but laugh….and take a quick video to show her tomorrow morning, when she was sober and regretting all life choices.

It was nice, seeing her let loose, Have some fun that didn’t involve books and studying and working. He knew she had done some of this in college; her boyfriend had apparently been quite the influence on her. But Jess had never seen her get really sloshed, barring a particularly boozy Christmas Eve at the Dragonfly three years ago. Rory was so….so sure of herself at all times, so controlled, white-knuckling her way through every situation life threw at her, no matter the magnitude. She needed some time to relax. This trip was good for her, which, he suspects, is why Lorelai hadn’t tracked them down yet and dragged Rory home.

He was worried, though. The crazy thing Rory had talked about doing and then leaving so she wouldn’t do it again: what could that be? He guesses it has something to do with a guy, and maybe something to do with her proclivity for kissing people while she and/or they were in relationships. 

He never told her this, and doubted he ever would, but when she kissed him in Philadelphia, he’d been seeing someone. Casual, but still a someone, nonetheless. Not that he wouldn’t have thrown any girl over for another chance with Rory Gilmore, but maybe that was the problem. He would do anything for her back then, and he still would now. Hell, she’d wanted to run and he emailed her an itinerary. Was a partner in crime ever so damn hospitable? God, he was turning into Luke, wasn’t he? Doomed to drool at the feet of a Gilmore Girl for the rest of his -

“Hey,” Rory was suddenly in front of him, hair slightly disheveled and cheeks rosy. “Come dance with me.”

“I don’t really do the whole group dance thing. The Cha Cha Slide was a sign of the coming apocalypse, in my opinion.”

“It’s a slow song.”

She was right.

“ _Crazy_ ,” crooned Patsy Cline. “ _I’m crazy for feeling so lonely_.”

“Please, Jess?” She was trying not to do the Bambi eyes, he could tell, but they always shone through when she was trying to get something she really wanted. Jesus, he knew way too much about her.

“Fine,” he sighs, too drunk and tired to fight her tonight. She suppresses a squeal of delight, grabs his hand, and tows him towards the dancefloor. There was a brief moment of awkwardness as he tries to figure out where to place his hands, but Rory just sighs in annoyance.

“Here,” she huffs, slapping both of his hands against her waist and curling his fingers around her. “God, you choose the strangest times to be shy.”

“I’m not being shy,” he snaps. “I just….didn’t know where we were. Hand placement-wise.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” he exhales sharply through his nose. “Can we just stand here and sway from foot to foot? I want this to be as painless as possible.”

“ _Such_ a drama queen,” Rory giggles, but she complies with his wishes. She surprises him, though, when she loops her arms around his neck and rests her head on his chest. He didn’t think she would get that close. _Probably the booze_.

“ _Crazy for thinking that my love could hold you, I’m crazy for trying and crazy for crying, and I’m crazy for loving you_.”

This was nice. Jess wasn’t one for dancing and he’d never admit it to anyone, but swaying here, Patsy Cline on the speakers and Rory’s hair tickling his chin, her hands cool on the back of his neck….it was nice. When the song ends and another fiddling, boot-stomping, barn dance song comes on, Jess almost feels sad.

“I think I’m ready to call it a night,” Rory says, stepping back from Jess, his hands falling away from her waist.

“Really? Are you sure?” he teases. “There’s still time for you to find your redneck Romeo out there amongst the line dancers.”

“Any more wisecracks and I’ll make you carry me back to the hotel.”

They stumble out of the bar (Jess only stumbled because Rory tripped and practically fell on him) and start making their way through the crowd of revelers and down the block to their hotel.

It was quiet once they got off Broadway, which Jess likes. He needs to focus if he was gonna remember how to get back to their hotel. Luckily, Rory knew the way. She hangs off his arm, dragging him across the street to the park in front of their hotel.

“Let’s not go in just yet,” she says, leading him away from the glass revolving doors. “I need to sober up a bit so I don’t puke in the elevator.”

“Yeah, I definitely wanna avoid that.”

They plop down onto a bench that faced the Country Music Hall of Fame. _Geez, this city was tiny compared to most_. Neither of them spoke, the silence only broken by the sound of Rory taking deep, steady breaths.

“Have you always been such a lightweight?”

“I blame my mom for not letting me drink until I got to college.”

“Aw, come on, she totally would’ve let you sneak some wine coolers. Or Mike’s Hard Lemonade.”

“Ignoring the fact that those are both lame-ass drinks, Mom wouldn’t encourage anything that would get in the way of the Ivy League dream.”

Jess stares up at the sky, making out a few more stars than he could in Philly. He likes the way the breeze felt on his face. He considers kissing Rory. He wonders if he was way drunker than he initially thought he was because no way was that a good idea. Fuck, he needs to go to sleep.

“Do you remember my college boyfriend?” Rory says suddenly. Jess feels a hot surge of annoyance because here he was, thinking about kissing her and she was thinking about that idiot. Again. “Logan? You met him.”

“How could I forget?” He rolls his eyes, scooting away from her slightly, instinctively trying to distance himself from whatever damage she was probably about to cause.

“He’s engaged,” she says simply. “She’s beautiful and rich, she’s got some fancy French name and can speak Italian and I think she’s friends with Arianna Huffington and -” She stops, like she’s choking on the words. “And I slept with him. Logan, I slept with Logan.”

Jess decides to dispense with tact and just go with the first thing that comes to his mind, which is: “What?”

“Logan was in New York a few weeks ago and we met up for drinks,” Rory’s words are spilling out of her mouth, sort of like the way they were when she called him up in the middle of the night and Jess suddenly imagines a panicked Rory locking herself in the bathroom of a five-star hotel to call him, Logan asleep in the other room. “We just wanted to - it was - we were just _talking_. And then….”

“You weren’t just talking anymore,” Jess finishes dryly. He’s trying to figure out how he feels about this whole situation. He takes a sick sort of satisfaction in knowing that he’d guessed what had sent her into a tailspin. He just never would have guessed who.

“After….after it happened,” Rory takes a shaky breath. “I had to leave, had to get away from....my life, I guess. I had to get away from him, too. Go somewhere he couldn’t follow.”

“Why would he follow you?”

“Because he wanted more,” Rory shrugs, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. “ And Logan’s never been good at taking no for an answer. He wanted….he wanted to meet up whenever we could and….be together. Like that.”

“And you didn’t want that.”

“No!” she turns to meet his eyes for the first time during this conversation, her own wide and sincere. “No, I didn't want that! I just….” She looks down at her hands. “I couldn’t be a homewrecker again.”

Jess chose not to ask about that one, even though he was dying to know when the vanilla, almost-blandly-nice Rory Gilmore had wrecked a home.

“Logan always wants more than I can give him. He wanted to get married after I graduated college. I was twenty two!” she laughs humorlessly. “And then this. I mean, I don’t want to sound too full of myself, but he just can’t seem to….to let me go.”

“Well, how could anyone be expected to fully recover from the love of the great Rory Gilmore?” Jess quips, hoping she wouldn’t take it as a declaration of love from him as well. Two ex-boyfriends on the hook; that was all she needed right now.

“That sounds like something my mom would say,” Rory mumbles, then giggles when she sees Jess’ exaggerated shudder.

“So,” Jess says carefully. “He was why you decided to run away.”

“Yeah.”

“Why’d you pick me to run away with?”

“Because….” she stops, pressing her lips together and furrowing her brow. “Because I knew you wouldn’t ask me why. You know that sometimes people need to get away from everything, even if it’s just for a little while.”

“Uh, you’re forgetting, I’m also a dazzling and witty conversationalist.”

“Oh yeah, that, too,” she lets out a breathy laugh. After a beat, she speaks again. “There were other reasons I called you, too.”

“What were they?” Jess knows it’s dangerous to play this game with her, but he’s drunk and she’s drunk and everything looks like a good idea when seen through beer goggles.

“You’re fun to be around,” she shakes her head, smiling. “You know, when you’re not being terse and brooding.”

“Ah, yes, terse and brooding, the title of my autobiography.”

“And you always help me see things in a different light,” she nudges him playfully with her shoulder. “You….you never make me feel like I need to act a certain way, or do certain things. You don’t have any expectations for me.”

“Figured you had enough people forcing you into a mold.”

“So maybe that’s why I called you,” she grins.

“I’m glad you did,” he admits, finally, to her and to himself. “I….I, uh, miss talking to you sometimes.”

“You do?”

“I do.”

“I miss you sometimes, too.”

He feels her slump against him, her head dropping onto his shoulder. It feels too familiar and he wonders if he’s made a mistake, trying to build a fragile bridge towards something he’s not even sure exists anymore.

“Rory?”

“Hmm?”

He takes a deep breath, knowing that he’ll regret this in the morning, but he’ll regret it even more if he doesn’t say anything at all. “You ever think that maybe we -”

Her head shoots up and she leans forward slightly. “I’m gonna throw up.”

“Okay, like, right now, or -”

She answers his question by doubling over and puking, just barely missing her shoes.

“Oh, geez,” Jess sighs, knowing, even as he says it, that he sounds just like Luke. He grabs handfuls of Rory’s hair, trying to pull it away from her face as she hacks up some more half-digested food. After a few minutes, she stops gagging and coughing and Jess thinks it’s safe to let go of her hair.

“You okay, champ?”

“You’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?” comes her weak response. She sits up slowly, then turns to look at him. She’s smiling. Jess thinks she’s beautiful. He feels something in the pit of his stomach, something familiar, something he hasn’t felt in years. _Ah, fucking great. Just what I fucking need_.

“Oh, I took pictures while you were down there,” he finally says, mustering up a trademark Mariano smirk. “I’m emailing them to Lorelai as soon as we get back to the room.”

“You are _soooo_ funny,” she narrows her eyes, sarcasm laced through her words. “Ugh. I feel like shit.”

“Really? Could have fooled me.”

“Get me back to the room, please.”

Jess helps her to her feet, allowing her to snake an arm around his waist for balance as they made their way to the hotel.

“Why is our room so far away?”

“Well, the more money you pay, the higher up they put you.”

“So we’re on, what, the top floor?”

“Eh, the fifth.”

“Out of?”

“Sixteen.”

“So you’re cheap.”

“Hell yeah, I am.”

“Open the door, please, I need to lay face-down on a bed for about twelve hours.”

“Oh, no.”

“What?”

“I must’ve lost the room key.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“God, you are _so_ not funny!”

“Hey, I’m laughing!”

“Once I’m sober, I’m gonna kill you.”

“Looking forward to it.”


	8. Chicago

The drive to Chicago was long. Excruciatingly long. So long that Jess had thought maybe they drove right past it and were about to plunge headlong into Lake Michigan. 

It wouldn’t have felt so long if Rory hadn’t told him about sleeping with Logan. Even though they both tried to pretend it hadn’t changed anything, it had. Jess didn’t know what to say. Did she want to talk about it? Did she want to act like it never happened? Was she going to do it again?

He had also made a decision: falling for Rory Gilmore was absolutely, 100% out of the question. Not happening. She was a mess, he was….well, him, and there was no way anything romantic between them could end well. So he was banishing those feelings, forcing them to the very back of his mind and praying they’d stay there.

They make it to Chicago in the late afternoon. Jess sort of wants to just collapse onto the bed and sleep for a couple hours, but Rory says something about deep dish pizza and that’s normal, right? That’s something that could restore them to the easy friendship they had been enjoying before, yeah? So, they go to Bacino’s of Lincoln Park because the name makes them laugh and they get a deep dish pizza with sausage and mushrooms and maybe everything’s gonna be just fine.

“I need to get something out on the table,” Rory announces suddenly. Jess’ head shoots up. He’s trying to feign nonchalance, but dear God, what other bombs could she possibly have to drop on him?

“Yeah?” He says, pretending to concentrate on the pizza.

Rory leans forward conspiratorially and Jess’ breath hitches. “I don’t think I like deep dish pizza,” she whispers, then sits back in her seat with a thump, already giggling. Jess lets out a sigh of what he hopes is relief (but there might be some disappointment in there, too) and chuckles.

“Don’t let anyone hear you say that while we’re here. I want to make it out of here alive, okay?”

“It’s just so….” she wrinkles her nose. “Saucy. Chunky.”

“Delicious!” Jess says loudly as their waitress nears the table, shooting her a smile as she refills their water glasses. As soon as she leaves, Rory bursts out laughing.

“Oh my God, get me out of here before I get us both killed.”

They end up wandering alongside the canal because Rory jokes that it reminds her of Venice and it makes Jess snicker.

They’re still dancing around certain topics, still trying to feel each other out on where they both stand. Jess can tell that Rory thinks he’s mad, so she’s working overtime to crack jokes and tell stories and do everything in her power to keep the mood light. Jess isn’t mad, per se, but he’s frustrated that Rory only ever seems to move backwards. He also wishes they could just talk about things like the adults that they are. Why does everything need to be buried under layers of subtlety and subterfuge?

It’s not until later, when they’re sitting in front of the bean sculpture that Rory insists on referring to by its actual name, Cloud Gate, and eating hot dogs from a cart on the corner that Jess decides to talk about things.

“So,” he says, taking care to put extra emphasis on meaning on this one word so that she knows what’s coming. “Last night. Are we gonna talk about it, or just keep pretending it never happened?”

“I - I didn’t think you’d wanna talk about it,” Rory looks straight ahead, her voice nervous. “My boyfriends have never exactly been your favorite topic of conversation -”

“Hey, I liked that guy you were dating the last time I was in New York! Tom, with the weird eyebrow? He was nice.”

“Okay, let me rephrase,” Rory smiles, shaking her head at him. “My  _ ex _ -boyfriends have never been your favorite topic of conversation. I just….I don’t wanna ruin our time together with discussions about my love life that will just piss you off.”

“Rory,” Jess makes sure she’s looking at him before he continues. “Sleeping with Logan obviously rattled you like crazy because you literally had to flee the city just to get your head on straight. He may not be my favorite person in the world, but  _ you _ are one of my favorite people in the world, so if he’s the thing that’s bothering you, we’re gonna talk about it.”

Rory stares at him, her mouth hanging open slightly. “I know I said this before, but it scares me how mature and levelheaded you are now.”

“All thanks to court-ordered anger management classes.”

“Are you serious?”

“No, I’ve just seen a lot of Dr. Phil episodes. God, you’re gullible.”

* * *

“This is a terrible idea.”

“You’re just saying that because last time, you started dancing.”

“You were dancing, too!”

“Only after some significant arm-twisting on your part.”

It's their second and final day in Chicago. Jess did his reading that afternoon at Quimby's, they got dinner at a sushi restaurant (Rory's pick) and now they’re drinking at the hotel bar, but Jess doesn’t plan on either of them getting fall-down drunk again. He figures alcohol is a great conversational lubricant, so if they’re gonna talk about Rory sleeping with Logan McDoucheFace, then they both need to be slightly sloshed.

“What’s your drink of choice?” Rory leans her elbows on the bar. “You know, besides beer.”

“Jack and Coke is always good,” he takes a swig of the beer currently in front of him. “Oh, you ever try 7UP and whiskey?”

“Jess, that’s disgusting.”

“Yeah, but it goes down smooth when you’re a kid.”

“Don’t tell me anything about your childhood tonight,” Rory groans. “It’ll just make me start crying in the middle of this fucking hotel bar.”

Jess takes her casual cursing as a good indicator that she’s just drunk enough for a conversation about Logan, so he forges ahead.

“So, let’s talk about something else.”

“Like what?”

“Logan whatever-his-name-is.”

She let out a deep breath, visibly deflating in her seat. “Do we have to?”

“If you wanna keep riding shotgun on the S.S. Truncheon with me, then yeah.”

“The S.S. Truncheon?” she snickers. “You’re a dork.”

“If I’m a dork, then what does that make you?”

“Perfect,” she sticks her tongue out.

“Why did you even meet up with him again?”

Rory blinks quickly, trying to orient herself to Jess’ abrupt conversational shift. “I - I don’t know, I guess I thought it was a mature thing to do.”

“No one actually stays friends with their ex, you know,” he rolls his eyes. “That’s just a myth  _ Cosmo _ forces down your throat.”

"Then why are we still friends?"

"Touché"

“I guess it boils down to my compulsive need to be liked,” Rory shrugs, trying to play it as a joke, but Jess knows she means it. And it’s true. She’s always craved the approval of others and, while it was cute when they were kids, now it’s just sort of sad. If it was anyone but Rory Gilmore, he might even use the word pathetic.

“While that  _ is _ a compelling reason, I’m guessing there are some other things that led to you jumping into bed with the guy.”

“I don’t know,” she shakes her head slightly, looking away. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

“This is veering dangerously close to when you yelled at me after you came to Hartford to give me your book.”

“Seven years later and we’re still arguing because of Logan McAssHat.”

“He’s not as bad as you think he is,” Rory finally meets his eyes, her own narrowing slightly.

“Well, he cheated on his fiancée,  so I think he’s exactly as bad as I think he is.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No, what’s not fair is him telling you he wants to be with you, but only when his wife isn’t around, -”

“They’re not married yet!”

“- making you think that being somebody’s mistress is a viable option, -”

“His  _ mistress _ ? Are you on crack?”

“ -and causing you to fucking meltdown and call  _ me _ , of all people, to run away with you!  _ That’s _ not fair.” Jess is trying to stay calm but his voice had gotten progressively louder as he talked over Rory’s interruptions and he can hear his heartbeat in his ears.

“Are you done?” Rory finally says, her voice cold.

“Yeah, I’m done,” Jess sighs. “For now, at least.”

“Do you really think I haven’t been saying the same fucking things to myself the last few weeks?” She’s trying to stay calm, too, but Jess can sense the anger bubbling underneath the surface. “Do you really think I haven’t been  _ killing _ myself over the fact that slept with someone else’s  fiancée ? And briefly considered doing it on a regular basis?”

“You considered it? What in the goddamn -”

“I left town so that I wouldn’t - wouldn’t - fall under his fucking spell! Again!” she stutters, trying to figure out the perfect words to make Jess understand and he thinks maybe he’s starting to.

“You had it  _ that _ bad for him in college?”

“I thought I was gonna marry him,” she laughs humorlessly. “And I guess somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought I still would.”

“A back-up plan fantasy.”

“I prefer contingency plan, but yeah.”

Neither of them speak for a few minutes; just continue drinking. Jess still feels frustrated with Rory, frustrated with her inability, then and now, to see that Logan has her wrapped around his finger, but what can he do? What can he say? He knows what it’s like to say “How high?” when a certain someone mentions jumping.

“Does Lorelai know?” He figures they might as well start again. Rory needs to talk about this shit.

“No,” Rory bites her lip and studies the contents of her glass. “No, I couldn’t tell her. Not after what happened with -” She freezes, like maybe if she doesn’t move a muscle, Jess won’t notice she’s there. Fat chance.

“After what?”

“It’s not important.”

“Well, now you  _ have _ to tell me.”

“Jess, please.”

“If I’m gonna play therapist here, I need all the information.”

“You’re just gonna get mad again.”

“Pinky promise I won’t.”

“You swear?”

“On J.D. Salinger’s grave.”

Rory laughs a little at that, looking up at him with the ghost of a smile on her face.

“Okay,” she takes a deep breath. “Well. Um, so, you know how Dean got married right out of high school?”

“I vaguely remember something about that,” Jess says slowly, a sick feeling starting to grow in his stomach. “Blonde girl? Cheerleader-type?”

“Lindsey,” Rory says her name softly, gently, like the word is delicate and needs to be protected.

“What about her?”

“I struggled at Yale my first year, did you know that?” Rory has a faraway look in her eye, like she’s watching a movie only she can see. “The classes were more than I could handle, my mom was getting the Dragonfly off the ground so she wasn’t as available as I was used to, and I was just….drowning. At least, that’s what it felt like.”

“I’m guessing my multiple, loud declarations of love throughout the year didn’t help with the stress.”

“You kept things spicy.”

“What can I say, I’m Italian.”

“I was struggling,” she says again, trying to get back on topic. “And Dean was helping with the renovations at the inn and….and he was so nice, you know? It was great to talk to someone familiar, someone my age, someone who….who was just always confident in me.”

That sick feeling in Jess’ stomach isn’t going away. Even after all these years, he still harbors a grudge towards Dean. If he hadn’t been so determined to win Rory back, then maybe Jess wouldn’t - but it didn’t make sense to dwell on the past, now did it? Jess was doing fine now and Dean was less than a footnote on the Jess Mariano story. 

“We ended up spending a lot of time together and - and he wasn’t happy with Lindsey, he just wasn’t. They shouldn’t have gotten married so soon, they both should have gone to college, and - well, he wasn’t happy.”

“Rory, tell me you didn’t -”

“I did,” she says, fist tightening around her glass. “I slept with Dean while he was still married. That’s actually how I lost my virginity, do you wanna yell at me about that, too?”

“You’re a grown woman, I’m not gonna scold you for something that happened years ago,” Jess is working overtime to keep his voice calm and even, but it’s taking everything in him not to yell, “ _ You had sex with Dean? While he was married? Dean? What the fuck is wrong with you? _ ”

“But now you see why I can’t tell Mom,” she still won’t look at him, Understandable. “Because she would say it’s a pattern and start freaking out that maybe she’s the reason why I’m - why I’m broken like this and it would become…..”

“She would make it about both of you,” Jess supplies. “When it’s really just about you.”

“Yeah,” she says quietly, a hint of surprise in her voice. They’ve known each other for thirteen years and she still seems to find it strange that he can almost read her mind. Maybe because she’s never been able to read his.

“Well,” Jess says, leaning into the word, trying to brace himself for the rest of his sentence. “It is sort of a pattern, right? Ex-boyfriends who are seriously involved with other people?”

“Two people is not a pattern!”

“It’s two more than you should have slept with.”

“I don’t know why I do it okay?” She looks at him, blue eyes flashing with fear and hurt and a whole host of other tangled emotions. “I mean, Dean was just - it was nothing, you know? At the time, it seemed really important and big and….real. But looking back, I can see that it was just both of us trying to recapture some small part of our glory days.”

Jess snorts. “If high school was your glory days, let me do you a favor and kill you right now.”

“But Logan….” she trails off, not really listening to Jess. “I don’t know why I did it. I’m older and wiser and I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Maybe you were trying to recapture some college glory days.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re not employed at a regular, steady job. You’re not engaged or married, which you thought you would be by now. You’re thirty and still living with a roommate. You -”

“Okay, you can stop there,” Rory snaps. “I get it. I’m not the wunderkind anymore.”

“That’s not a bad thing, you know.”

“But I liked being the wunderkind,” she says sadly, looking at her empty glass. Jess thinks maybe they’re a little drunker than he thought they would get tonight.

“I know you did,” he chuckles. “But we don’t have to talk about this shit anymore, okay? At least, not tonight. I’m tired.”

“Me, too.”

“Okay, so let’s go to sleep.”

They leave the hotel bar, both walking slowly and saying nothing at all. The elevator ride up to their floor is equally silent, as are their nighttime routines of showers and brushing teeth and getting into pajamas while the other one is in the bathroom.

“Good night, Jess.”

“Good night, Rory.”

He doesn’t go to sleep right away, even though he can tell from her steady, deep breathing that she zonked out as soon as her head hit the pillow. He’s too distracted, thoughts of Rory and ex-boyfriends and how the hell is he the only ex she hasn’t slept with?

He quickly banishes that thought from his mind because it isn’t fair, not to either of them.

He wonders why she can’t let go of old boyfriends, though. He’s living proof that her hold is strong and lasts for years. But why does  _ she _ feel the need to come back to  _ them _ ?

_ She thinks we all belong to her _ , Jess thinks, hating the fact that he’s lumped in with the likes of Dean and Logan.  _ She thinks she still owns them because she knows that she still owns me _ .


End file.
